Opportunity Knocks
by SiobhanP
Summary: It's just a normal morning in the loft, until Mark makes a discovery that bothers him a lot more than it should...


"Unbelievable," Mark scoffed softly, pushing a mug full of coffee in Roger's direction. Roger looked up sharply, then winced and squinted into the morning light.

"What?" he bit out sharply, taking the cup.

"That kid," Mark replied, a little tersely. "Roger, what the fuck? He can't have been more than sixteen, and besides that… You know, you don't have to sleep with someone every night you have a show. You're not gay, how'd you end up hooking up at The Pyramid Club?"

"He was nineteen," Roger muttered. He was about to continue when Mark interrupted.

"Or so he told you."

"He was old enough to know what he was doing, Mark; that's all that matters. And as far as the other thing goes… who said?"

"The other thing?" Mark queried, raising an eyebrow.

"The gay thing," Roger amended, frustrated. "It's not my fault you assumed I was straight."

"Oh, it's all those girls' fault, is it?" Mark challenged sarcastically.

"Well, lots of people assume, like you do," Roger said with a dismissive shrug. "So when I'm at a regular bar, sure, it's usually gonna be a girl. Doesn't mean I'm gonna turn down guys if opportunity knocks."

"You…" Mark paused and laughed, startled, "do know what a slut that makes you sound like, right?"

"Eh," Roger shrugged again. "So what? S'a pretty mainstream label, and none of my people are really mainstream."

Mark laughed. "Your people?"

"Yeah," Roger replied simply, as though he had no idea how it sounded odd. "You know. My people. All the ones I hang around with. The family I picked."

Mark laughed. "Caveman," he teased playfully, poking Roger in the forehead. Roger winced. "Seriously, that's the most archaically possessive thing I've ever heard."

Roger grunted. "Well, you're my people too, so you might as well get used to it."

"Don't I get asked how I feel about being owned?"

Roger looked at him blandly for a long moment, sipping at his coffee. Finally, he said simply, "No." Mark scoffed, and he continued, "But on the flipside, I'm your people, too. That's why it works. It's reciprocal. Besides, you never looked at the benefits. No one fucks with my people unless they want to lose some teeth."

"Gee," Mark said wryly, "I never knew you cared."

"Fuck off, Cohen," Roger said tonelessly, but there was a smile threatening the corners of his mouth. They were silent for a long time, Roger drinking his coffee and Mark frying eggs.

"You want any?" Mark asked finally, sliding two eggs onto a plate.

Roger grunted again. "Eggs, Mark?" he asked incredulously. "Look, I don't feel that bad, but God, do you want me to puke?"

"Thought not," Mark said cheerfully, sitting down across from him and sprinkling salt onto his eggs.

"And anyway," Roger said suddenly, "where do you get off bitching me out for sleeping with guys? What about that guy from that bar? Or your old roommate? Bertie, or whatever?"

"Benny," Mark corrected automatically, blushing.

"Benny," Roger repeated triumphantly, as though he'd recalled it himself. "You spent most of your first month here moping around because you missed him."

"Well, yeah, but… I was not moping," Mark protested, finally catching on. "And yeah, that's true, but you knew right off the bat. If I hadn't woken up when I did this morning, I still wouldn't have. Little bit closeted, are we?"

"Little bit stuck in conventional thought, are we?" Roger retorted. "Like I said, it's not my fault you assume everyone's straight. Maureen or Collins would laugh in your face if they heard you talking like this, you know."

"Roger," Mark protested, "seriously. What was I supposed to think?"

"Okay, fine," Roger conceded. "Maybe you have a point there. But why is it such a big deal now you know? How do you know I didn't tell you because I thought you'd do this?"

"Do what? Roger, I don't give a damn, I'm just surprised."

"You're sure acting like you do," Roger pointed out, draining the last of his coffee and rising to get more.

"Fine then, we'll drop it," Mark said with finality, biting into another morsel of egg.

"No, I don't think so," Roger replied, picking up the sugar bowl and dumping almost a third of its contents into his cup. He smirked. "I think we need to figure out exactly why this is bothering you so much, Marky."

"It's not," Mark insisted around a mouthful of egg.

"It is," Roger replied with certainty. "Or you wouldn't have talked about it so much."

"Well…" Mark stopped and made a frustrated sound. "You're my best friend. You're supposed to tell me this stuff."

"Does it matter?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

Mark shook his head in defeat and didn't answer. Suddenly, he felt Roger's arms slide around his ribcage. He let out a startled squeak. Roger chuckled – Mark didn't hear it, just felt the short convulsive spasm of the other boy's chest. Mark twitched uncomfortably, about to ask Roger what the hell he thought he was doing when he felt warm breath against his neck, followed shortly by Roger's lips pressing against his skin. They lingered there for awhile before Roger pulled back a bit, laughing again.

"Was that why?" Roger murmured into his ear. Mark stiffened and struggled out of his arms, falling clumsily back against the table.

"Fuck you," he ground out acidly.

Roger was unimpressed. "You're shaking," he observed softly, reaching out and circling his thumb and forefinger around Mark's wrist.

"Fuck you, Roger," Mark repeated more certainly, trying to draw his hand back. "Don't you dare. I'm not going to be one of your…" He stopped, taken aback by the shadow that crossed Roger's face.

"One of my what, Mark?" he growled, his hand tightening a little around Mark's wrist.

Mark didn't back down. "One of your conquests," he spat. "One of your fucking whores!"

When Mark dared to glance at Roger again, he was startled by the hurt in his expression. "Is that really what you think of me? You really believe I'd…"

"It's what you always do," Mark said placidly. "Guess I was wrong when I thought I meant a little more than that."

"But you do," Roger protested urgently. "Mark, I'll admit they don't matter. None of them ever have. But that doesn't mean I can't care. You'd be different," he insisted.

"Different how?" Mark demanded, a little of the tension draining from his posture.

"I care about you, that's fucking how," Roger blurted, as though it should have been obvious. "It wouldn't be… You wouldn't… It wouldn't be once, Mark."

"And you just assume I want you at all?"

"Yeah," Roger said unapologetically. "I do. Because I know you do. You know you do, so don't give me that look."

Mark stiffened again, jerking his hand back and holding it to his chest. Still, he wore a tell-tale blush. "Stick your ego up your ass," he spat, turning to walk away.

"Mark, for God's sakes. Maybe I should have talked to you, but opportunity knocked, and…"

Mark whirled, his eyes flaming. "'Opportunity knocked,'" he echoed mockingly. "Where have I heard that before?"

"You know I'm no good with words; not on the spot. Mark, if it came down to me saying something, I probably never would," Roger said matter-of-factly. "Not because I didn't want to, just because I'm no good at that stuff. But this… this could be good, and you know it. Come back. Just talk to me." When Mark didn't move, he added quietly, "Please?"

Mark stood still a long moment before heaving a heavy sigh and throwing his hands up in defeat. "You're doing the talking, Roger," he said sternly as he sat back down.

"And I don't know what else I can say," Roger sighed. "Look, Mark, that back there – that's how I'm used to doing stuff like that. It's not right for what I was trying to do with you, but it's how I've always done it."

"What exactly do you even want, Roger?" Mark demanded, frustrated. "I'm not going to be your fuck buddy."

"My people are not my fuck buddies," Roger said calmly. "My boyfriends, maybe."

"Do you have any idea how _weird_ that would be?" Mark asked, wrinkling his nose. He'd calmed down considerably, though, which was just as telling as the pink flush across his cheekbones.

"Do you have any idea how easy that would be?" Roger countered. "There's no skeletons in the closet, we know we like each other…"

"And that's supposed to be enough?"

"It could be. I think so. We'll never know if we don't try," Roger said stubbornly. "I promise, the second you think things are getting weird, it can be over. The friendship comes first until we figure out if the other thing's working."

"The other thing?"

"Mark, just stop being difficult," Roger sighed. "Come here."

Mark stood stalk-still, looking at him with an odd expression.

Roger pouted. "Please?" he said again. Mark approached him carefully, stopping about a foot away from him. His posture was rigid and he was breathing a little too quickly. Roger laid a hand on his shoulder. There was nothing intimate about it, but Mark still shrunk a little under the touch at first.

"Now," Roger breathed, "I don't know what to do here, Mark. What should I say? What should I be doing?"

Mark let out a shuddering breath and jerked forward, grabbing Roger by the back of his neck and kissing him hard. It didn't last long, not more than a few of seconds, but it was enough that they were both panting slightly when Mark pulled away. Roger shivered, more from nervousness than anything else, because Mark was so close they were still breathing the same air, and what the fuck was he supposed to say now?

To his surprise, when he dared to meet Mark's eyes, they were glinting almost mischievously. "'Opportunity knocks,'" he quoted wryly. "Was that what you meant?"

Roger laughed breathlessly, startled. "Yeah," he said softly, "I think it was."


End file.
